The turn of the tide
by NancyMay
Summary: Credit to Seven Dragons for Distant Shores, written June '16. A story that broke many hearts as Lucien went back to Mei Lin and Jean left to live in a boarding house in Ballarat. I often wondered what happened to her so here is my imagining of what happened next, which probably bears not resemblance to Seven's idea. Thank you, my dear for allowing me to write this. x


'Grandma,' the little girl turned and tugged the hand of the woman next to her, 'may I have a toffee apple, please?'

There were toffee apple stands and candy floss, sweets and lemonade, games and rides, so much to tempt a three year old, and her doting grandmother had agreed to take her to the fair, indulge her like only she could.

'Of course, sweetie,' and the treat was bought for her.

Amelia was not a demanding or spoilt child so treating her was easy, and Jean delighted in doing so. Her current job meant she could spend time with her granddaughter, working only in the mornings, cleaning and changing the beds in a local hotel. It was not difficult work but it enabled her to rent a small cottage, feed and clothe herself and have enough for small treats for Amelia. Of course cooking for some of the senior officers dinner parties at the barracks added to her income, and, all in all, she was content, she supposed.

Two and a half years ago her life appeared to be going in an entirely different direction until it was completely derailed, by a woman who was supposed to be dead. She had left the place that had been home for more years than she cared to think about, the friends and eventually the town. Admitting to her son, Christopher, that things were not as she hoped in Ballarat, and that she thought, perhaps, she should move to Adelaide and help him and his wife with their daughter, was one of the hardest things she had ever done. He had surprised her with his gentleness, finding her a pretty little house to live in and helping her with the costs for a while.

'Mum,' he had smiled, 'you raised me, and Jack, loved us when we didn't deserve it, worked your fingers to the bone to provide for us, now it's my turn to do that for you.' They had hugged and she had cried, telling him she would always love him and his brother, and how proud she was of him. She had never told him the real reason for her moving, just saying it was for the best. He assumed Dr Blake had tried to force himself on her but she never confirmed or denied it. He was never spoken of again, but he was always in her thoughts.

She kept in touch with some back home, it was still home, whatever she might tell herself. Matthew Lawson had returned to be Chief Superintendant, just before she left, things seemed to right themselves, in some ways. Dr Harvey had taken the post of police surgeon at Matthew's request and had become, to all intents and purposes, Lucien in female dress. She had learned a lot from her former colleague. Alice wrote almost regularly, talked of the cases she was working on, how Matthew's leg still pained him, but the best letter Jean ever got, was to invite her to their wedding. It was to be a quiet affair, but would she mind awfully being a witness?

She had been delighted and, because she could think of nothing for a wedding present had offered to make their wedding cake as such. She had travelled to Ballarat and stayed for the weekend, walking through the familiar streets, nodding to old acquaintances, but not quite at home. She passed her old home, a foolish thing, she thought, and she was right. Her garden was a mess, it made the house look sad, unloved. Alice had told her it had gone through several hands, nobody seemed to settle. In a way she had been happy to return to Adelaide and her family.

And so life had gone on, letters had been written and sent, Amelia had grown and they were as close as could be.

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She wiped the sticky residue off her granddaughter and suggested they head home, Daddy would be wanting his dinner and Mummy would be back from the office. Ruby had taken the opportunity to go back to work, part time, when Jean had come to Adelaide, and, because Jean was happy to look after Amelia, Jean had offered no objection, in fact she had actively encouraged it.

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She and Christopher washed the dishes together while Ruby put Amelia to bed and read her a story. They discussed changes at the base that Ruby could never understand,

'Oh, by the way, mum.' Christopher put the last dish away, 'the Brigadier is hosting a dinner party, wondered if you would be available to do the catering.'

'is the camp chef so bad?' She teased, the Brigadier was a dear and flirted with her outrageously, despite being married to a wonderful woman who had become firm friends with Mrs Beazley, senior.

'He likes your cooking.' Christopher laughed, 'and his wife asked specifically for you.'

'Margaret is a dear, and, of course I'd be happy to oblige.' Jean draped the cloth over the tap and smiled. 'I'll call her in the morning.'

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'Oh, Jean,' Margaret Brady laughed down the phone, 'I'm so glad Christopher spoke to you. It's not for three weeks, but...'

'No problem, Margaret,' Jean smiled, 'I'd be delighted. shall we have tea and discuss it?'

They met two days later, over tea and shortbread,

'It will be quite a gathering, all high ranking officers and their wives.' Margaret took a bite of shortbread.

'Sit down or buffet?' Jean asked, notebook at the ready.

'Arthur wants one of your roasts, so..'

'Sit down it is then,' Jean smiled, 'I will need some help, in the kitchen and waiting on. What does he want for dessert?' She knew what the Brigadier's favourites were, but they were not fitting for such an occasion.

'You know Arthur, fruit pie and custard.' Margaret sighed.

'Well, a bit homely, but I'm sure I can come up with something that matches his taste. Perhaps custard tart and fresh fruits; the summer fruits are good at the moment; and maybe chocolate cake with cream?' Jean added wistfully. A slice of chocolate cake and cream had been one of Lucien's favourites. Margaret assumed it was her late husband she was thinking of and touched her hand,

'That sounds lovely, dear.' She smiled gently.

Jean had no idea why she had suggested Lucien's favourite dessert, until she checked the calendar to add the function to it, it was the anniversary of him leaving with Mei Lin. God only knew why she marked that date. She had tried hating him, but she couldn't so she just went on with her small life. She allowed a tear to fall, as she still did, on occasion.

'Right, Jean Mary Beazley, pull yourself together, there's work to be done.' And with that she headed out to the butcher to organise the meats she would need.

'Mrs Beazley, another function?' The butcher smiled, she was one of his best customers.

'Yes, for Brigadier Brady, so...' she looked at the meat on display, 'lamb, I think; yes; lamb.' she became decisive, 'two good sized legs, please, on his account, and perhaps a couple of chickens, not everybody likes lamb.' She always did two different meats for such occasions, and chicken always went down well. Lamb did to, without the bullets. She really had to stop thinking about Lucien, and the way he attacked the meat she bought. She told him the date she would need the meat and headed over to her son's to take charge of Amelia before Ruby went to the office.

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So used to seeing military personnel around she barely noticed the Lieutenant Colonel wandering down the street. He was tall, greying, tired looking, though she didn't get a good look at his face. She was taking Amelia to the park then they would go to the beach before heading home again. It was nothing special but she didn't like the child staying in the house and the garden was rather small so they often went for walks to the park. Some kind resident had paid for swings to be installed and Amelia loved her grandmother to push her, as high as she could, then she would run round in circles while Jean looked on and laughed.

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'So, who's on the guest list?' Christopher asked over dinner one night.

'Actually I don't know.' Jean passed the vegetables over, 'I never know until afterwards. The Brigadier insists I join them for a drink after they've eaten. I suppose it stops me worrying about whether I have provided food of the required standard.'

'No wonder everybody knows you around this part of town.' Ruby smiled, 'I've noticed how you get nods and smiles when we're out together.'

'People are far too generous,' Jean blushed, 'but I have to admit, it is rather nice.'

'You are a very talented cook, mum,' Christopher agreed, 'I often wonder why some lonely bachelor hasn't courted you, just for your food.'

Jean just smiled, painful as it still was, there was only one man for her, and he was unavailable. She knew she was bad at letting go, she'd held on to Christopher Senior's memory for more years than was good for her, and now she held on to another, and probably would for the rest of her days. It was just her way.

'Now, Christopher,' Ruby warned, 'Jean does not need you match-making for her.' Over the time since Jean had come back to them, sad, tired, with the light having gone from her eyes, Ruby had noticed that while she was no longer as sad, there was still a pain behind every smile, every hug she gave. Jean was in mourning, she thought, for a life she had not had the chance to live.

'Thank you, Ruby,' Jean inclined her head, 'you're right, I have no desire to marry again.'

'Just haven't found the right man,' Christopher took the plates to the sink.

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Jean sat on her bed and looked at her box of memories. Opening it she took out her photographs of her and the family when all life was good, hard, but good. Photographs of Alice and Matthew on their wedding day, a little painful to be on display, and right at the bottom a picture Rose had taken, now a lifetime away, of her, Lucien, Charlie and Mattie in the garden one sunny day.

What the hell was wrong with her? She had moved on, she hoped, enough to look at these pictures without spending the rest of the night crying. But, since the Brigadier had asked her to cater for this dinner she seemed to be going backwards. It was as if an infection had taken hold, one that only one medication could cure. The trouble was that medication was Lucien Radcliffe Blake. She didn't hate him, he had tried to do his best, the only way he could. Offered to buy her a flat, to help her out financially, maybe it was her fault, maybe she should have accepted the help, maybe she should have fought harder. She had hoped that moving to Adelaide would help her forget, but it didn't, Jean thought too much, too much about everything. Christopher didn't know she had accepted dinner invitations, well one or two, from 'lonely bachelors' but that had been all, they had been pleasant evenings, that was it, just pleasant, not heart stopping, not breath taking, just pleasant. So, she resigned herself to her widowhood and the catering, Amelia and her walks in the park. She didn't even attend church as often as she had. The church had offered no comfort when she needed it most, and the gossip about housekeepers getting ideas above their station had become more wearing over time. At least here that didn't happen, she was just Jean Beazley, no one of note; a grandmother, chamber maid and occasional cook.

Perhaps it was her age, just turned fifty, too old to be flirting or dreaming of what might have been, time to be settling down with her knitting and sedate hobbies. She sighed and put the box away, settling down into bed with a book until sleep claimed her.

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Jean was able to prepare things like her desserts at home, with Amelia 'helping', and then she would have Christopher drive her over to the base kitchen to store them in the fridge or pantry on the morning of the function, then she would return in the afternoon to prepare the main meal, the roasts and the vegetables, instruct the staff who were to work with her and the waiting on staff. It would be all silver service, as usual. She lost herself in her work, organising, supervising the cooking, the laying of tables, discussing which wines should be served, checking that the glassware shone, there were no finger marks on the silverware and that the napkins were folded neatly.

Margaret Brady came to see how it was all going, and again suggested Jean turn her work into a profession.

'Oh no, I couldn't,' Jean pooh-poohed the idea, 'doing the occasional dinner for you and the Brigadier, or other top brass is enough.'

'You know you'd get plenty of work.'

'Too much.' Jean stopped what she was doing, she knew Margaret meant well, 'I'd never see Amelia and that's really why I came to Adelaide.'

Margaret didn't believe that for a minute but had given up trying to find out what had happened in Ballarat to make her leave everything behind. She hadn't pried, just asked subtle questions. Christopher had said she used to be a housekeeper for a doctor and police surgeon and she couldn't understand why she left a good position like that. One day, one day she'd find out. She didn't want to gossip, she felt Jean was a friend, but a little sad at times.

'Do you have a seating plan?' Jean turned the conversation back to the present.

'Yes, I'll do it later,' Margaret smiled, 'Arthur is just finishing it, some new chaps joining us.'

'Well, I'd best get back to the kitchen, unless there's anything else...?'

'It all looks lovely, Jean, thank you.'

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The waiting on staff stood in a line as Jean passed each one a platter of sliced lamb and chicken. One per table, followed by the vegetables and potatoes and finally the gravy. Brigadier Brady would have none of those 'fancy sauces' as he called them, good old fashioned gravy with meat and Jean was happy to oblige him. Most of the guests were of a vintage that would agree with him.

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The team of cooks and waiters could not understand how Mrs Beazley kept so calm and fresh when she cooked for so many. Never a bead of perspiration on her brow, maybe slightly pink of cheek, but it was as if she was cooking for a large family.

'Chap out there says it's been a long time since he ate roast lamb like that. Sends his compliments.' One waiter called, as he brought in a pile of empty plates, dirty, but empty.

'That's kind of him.' Jean grinned.

'I said you'd be out at the end of the evening he could tell you himself.' He called back, 'that's the last of the first course plates.'

'Thanks, Sam.' She wiped her hands on her apron, 'now, dessert is a choice of custard tart with fresh fruit or chocolate gateau, both can be served with cream. For those who can't decide we can do a small portion of each.'

'Right. Boss!' He saluted and headed out, with the rest, to take the dessert orders.

Jean shook her head and laid out the plates ready. The tarts and cakes had already been cut into portions, and table by table she would put out the desserts and set a jug of cream on the tray.

'Chap that liked the lamb says he can't decide, very partial to both.' Sam came back with his orders, 'apart from that, four tart, three gateau!'

Jean laughed and plated up, adding some extra raspberries to the 'can't decide' plate.

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All was served, all the plates had been returned, the compliments had flowed, her team would eat the leftovers; perks of the job; then clean up. They never let her clean up, she had to go and meet the guests, accept the compliments in person.

She changed her dress, repaired her makeup, pressed her curls, now with a hint of grey, into place and took a deep breath. Truth be told, she would rather just go home but the Brigadier insisted.

'Ah, here she is,' Brigadier Brady called for quiet, 'the creator of our feast!' He put his arm round her shoulders and kissed her firmly on the cheek. 'Mrs Jean Beazley!'

There were cheers and 'here, here's', men and women came forward to shake her hand, tell her she was a marvel, best meal they'd had in ages. She inclined her head, and smiled, thanked them and accepted a sherry. Margaret looked on like a proud mother, Jean was wasted, she thought.

After a while she found herself standing at a window, staring out over the ocean and breathing in the fresh air.

'Only you can cook lamb like that,' A voice so familiar, so part of her life and so filled with longing, whispered in her ear, and a voice she never thought to hear again.

She didn't turn, she daren't.

'I'm sorry,' he sighed, 'I should go.'

She felt him move away but she still didn't turn, because if she did, he would see her tears, the ones she didn't have time to gulp back.

Margaret watched and as Blake moved away she headed straight to her friend.

'Jean? Are you alright?' She touched her arm.

'I'm afraid not, Margaret,' she sniffed and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, 'I need to get out of here.'

'Of course, this way.' She took her out of the room via a door almost hidden by the curtains.

Out of sight Margaret stopped, 'What's the matter?'

'It's nothing, I'm sorry, I must go.' She tried to pull away.

'That man, did he upset you?' Margaret would see he never graced their dinners again.

Jean's shoulders slumped, this time she would have to tell Margaret, but not everything.

'It was a long time ago,' though as she said it, two years was not a long time. 'He's the reason I left Ballarat.'

'What did he do?'

'Nothing, and everything.' She heaved a sigh, 'I was his housekeeper, receptionist. We were close, too close. He thought he was a widower, but... oh Margaret, he was about to propose and she turned up, there on the doorstep, his wife. Missing for seventeen years, thought killed at the fall of Singapore. We tried, I suppose, but, in the end I had to leave. She was his wife, and she came first. We both agreed that it was for the best. I loved him so much, I think he loved me...'

'...but propriety got in the way.' Margaret hugged her, 'Arthur holds Lucien Blake in high regard.'

'He should.' Jean wiped the last of her tears away, 'he's a good man. He won't stand for injustice, he barrels in without thought of his own safety. He tries so hard to do the right thing, gets it wrong, gets it right. I never thought I'd see him again, he moved, to China, with his wife.'

'He came alone,' Margaret stroked her back, 'I see no sign of a wife.'

'She's Chinese, she may have felt out of place, though I doubt it.' Mei Lin had never hidden, not in Ballarat, not if what Jean had heard was correct. Almost paraded about, issuing invitations to cocktail parties, hob-nobbing with the Tynemans before they went back to her homeland. 'Lucien was a doctor, a GP, and the police surgeon, he was good.'

'I'll get a car to take you home,' Margaret gave her a last hug.

'No, thank you, the walk will do me good.' Jean had to think. Firstly why was Lucien in Australia and secondly, where was Mei Lin, either way, what was she going to do? She couldn't run away, she had Amelia to care for, and she wasn't a coward. Now she knew he was around she would just have to do her best to avoid him.

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Lucien watched her leave and half thought about following her. From the moment he had put the first mouthful of lamb in his mouth he knew it was Jean's cooking. When the chocolate gateau appeared on his plate he knew beyond all doubt the woman he had not stopped thinking of was there, within reach, but he couldn't, in all honesty think about doing anything about it. He had broken her heart, even as he had tried to soften the blow. Her pride had not allowed her to accept his help and in the end he had left. Gone with a proud and ambitious woman, and put himself in danger, countless excursions to countries where his kind were targets, hoping that at least one of the bullets had his name on it. But, no. Each trip saw him back with Mei Lin, smiling with his mouth but not his eyes. Even the sporadic love making had stopped.

His half thought did not reach his feet and he found himself walking in her footsteps, far enough behind for her not to notice. There were two things he wanted to tell her and now, with his stomach full of her cooking and Arthur's wine, he had the courage to do so.

She turned at the front of a small cottage and he smiled; of course she would have begonias; and let herself into the front door. As she turned to close the door she saw him, standing just out of the beam of a street light. Her heart flipped, she swallowed but did not know if she wanted to speak to him. Lucien Blake did all things with a reason good or bad. Jean inclined her head, inviting him to at least walk up the garden path.

'Lucien,' she murmured, 'I didn't expect to see you.'

'Nor I you, Jean.' He answered. 'You are well?'

'I am, and you?'

'Still in the land of the living, in spite of various people trying to make it the opposite.' He tried to lighten the comment.

'Mei Lin?'

'Er... she passed.' He looked down.

'I'm sorry to hear that.' Jean offered her condolences.

'Thank you, it was about two years ago, not long after we settled in China.' He raised his head, 'I, um, I'm sorry Jean, for everything. Not a day goes by when I don't think of you.' The last tumbled out as if he couldn't stop it. He heard her gasp.

'I'd better go.' He turned. 'I hope you're happy.'

No, Lucien, she wanted to shout after him, I'm not happy, content is not happy, I miss you, please don't go. She reached out her hand, but withdrew it quickly, before he saw. She closed the door once he was out of sight and went to cry herself to sleep.

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On her walks with Amelia she found herself looking out for him, whether it was so she could hide or speak to him she didn't know. After a week of not seeing him she supposed he had gone off on one of his clandestine missions, for she was sure he had gone back into espionage.

She was sitting watching Amelia run in circles in the park,

'Grandma, I'm an aeroplane!' She ran with arms outstretched.

'Of course you are, darling!' Jean called back.

'She's lovely, just like her grandmother.' Lucien murmured behind her. 'May I?' He indicated the seat beside her.

It would be churlish, she thought, to say 'no,' so she just nodded, after all it was a public bench.

'I wrote,' he said, still looking ahead.

'I never got the letters.'

'No, I never sent them, what I had to say was not for letters.'

'Oh.'

'I'm sorry, Jean, I shouldn't be here, I'm only hurting both of us. My pain should not be inflicted on you.' He stood.

'Sit.' she spoke as if training a dog. He obeyed.

'I don't know what you want, Lucien, I don't know what I want, not anymore. It took a lot for me to admit to Christopher that Ballarat was not as I hoped, but he has been kind to me, helped me get back to some kind of life.' She didn't look at him.

'Now I come and spoil it all, and that's what I do, over and over again.' He bit his lip. 'I don't know what I'd do if I had the time over again, but I do know I would not have abandoned you the way I did.'

She made to stop him.

'No, Jean, let me continue, I never stopped loving you, from the moment I told you I needed a damn good talking to,' She smiled at the memory, 'I'm stupid and selfish, careless, thoughtless, I trample over people but, as whatever higher being there is, is my witness I love you, with all my heart, and always will. I'm going away, at the end of the week, another mission. I don't know if I'll be back, or when, so you'll be rid of me, hopefully for good.'

Tears were running down his face and hers.

'Lucien,' she whispered, 'I never forgot you and there is so much I want to say, so, please, come back soon, safe. We'll talk then.'

'You are the most wonderful woman,' He lifted her hand and kissed it, 'even if you tell me to sling my hook and that you hate me. Thank you, for being you.'

He stood and started to turn when she thought of something that might make him smile,

'Lucien, I know you won't have been in touch with our friends, but you should know, Matthew and Alice got married.'

He stopped, turned back and beamed, 'Bloody hell!'

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Jean did not tell Christopher about Lucien, and when Amelia said Grandma had been talking to a soldier she just said it was someone from the dinner offering his compliments, again.

'See, I told you the right man was out there for you.' He grinned, she blushed, he'd be none too happy when he found out who that man was, 'so I have your blessing to, er, date this gentleman?' She reminded herself of Lucien's blessing when she had dinner with Richard, who turned out to be a murderer.

'Of course, I trust you to make the right decision.'

Jean wanted to laugh but contained herself, just.

'He's off, out of the country for a while, perhaps, when he gets back I'll see him again.'

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Jean didn't expect him to write and he didn't, but it gave her the time to think about what she wanted. Did she still want him, or could she live out her life as it was now. Having no one else to talk to, she turned to Margaret Brady.

'Well, my dear Jean, you are a dark horse.' Margaret breathed and took a mouthful of tea, after Jean had told her all about her life in Ballarat with the renegade police surgeon, their friends and the scrapes they had got into and ultimately what had broken them apart in more detail than she had at the dinner party. 'Now tell me about Lucien as you see him.'

'Well. he would say he is selfish, thoughtless, careless with other's feelings, stupid and he is all of those things. But, he is also loving and giving. When he loves it is with an intensity I have never known, not even from my husband, Christopher's father. He tries his damndest to protect those he loves from harm, is relentless in his pursuit of justice, but sometimes he forgets the little things, is late for dinner, sometimes doesn't turn up at all, drips lake water over the floors, uses my jam jars for water samples, blows things up in his study, blows the fuses in the house, shoots the meat joint, breaks the pots...'

As she talked Margaret noticed that Jean had gone into the present tense, as if it was still normal for her, she smiled, this was a woman in love. So deep in love she couldn't see it herself. Whatever the cause of the breakup, Jean needed Lucien like a plant needs water, like a baby needs milk. She had come alive in that afternoon.

'Jean, I'll keep you informed of his whereabouts. Let you know what is happening and when he'll be back.' She touched her arm. 'I've seen people in love, but you love him more than I have ever seen, you need him.'

'Oh, Margaret...it can never be like it was.'

'No it can't, but maybe it will be better, because you found each other again, against all the odds.' Jean believe it, she really did.

'Don't tell Christopher, he never really understood.'

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As the weeks wore on Jean contented herself with her days making beds and cleaning rooms, playing with Amelia, cooking occasionally for high ranking military and having tea with Margaret. Margaret had little to report save that Lucien was well and really that was all she needed to know. She wrote to Alice and told her all about it, the reply she got made her smile. Alice had told Matthew what was happening and he had said she was to be careful, and if Blake did anything stupid he was first in line to, as he so subtly put it, 'kick his arse,' but they both wished her well. Alice added a more gentle line, that she would be there, if she needed her.

She would need her sooner than she thought.

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'Jean! Jean!' Margaret gasped, she was not built for running, 'thank goodness I've found you. It's Lucien.' She grabbed her arm, 'you need to come, quickly.'

'I er, Amelia.' The little girl was looking up at her grandmother, obviously frightened at Mrs Brady's urgent voice.

'We'll get her home, her mother..'

'... is in the offices, at the barracks.' Jean's eyes were wide with fear.

'Good, we need to go there,' Margaret bundled the two into her little car, and drove rather too quickly for Jean's liking.

'What happened?'

'Don't know, only we were lucky to get him out.' Margaret pulled into the barracks and the gate was raised for her, they had been warned, 'it doesn't look good, Jean, I have to warn you...'

'Let me see him, I'll be the judge of that.' Jean felt, deep down, that however bad it looked she could bring him back, unless...but she preferred not to think of that.

'There's the hospital wing,' Margaret pointed to a grey and uninspiring building, 'the offices...'

'Amelia,' Jean bent to her granddaughter, 'I need you to be a very good girl and go with Mrs Brady, she'll take you to mummy. I have to see my... my friend, he's very poorly.'

'Grandma?' Amelia looked confused and upset.

'I love you, darling girl, but my friend is...'

'Amelia, you are such a grown up girl, your grandma has told me, you need to be very grown up now.' Margaret smiled, 'one day you will understand. But now, let's go and find mummy, and I bet I can find some ice cream on the way.' She turned to Jean, 'Don't worry, Arthur has cleared it for you to go in.'

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He had tubes in places she didn't know he had places. Her heart dropped at the sight of his pale face, the oxygen mask, the drips, the bandages, his sunken eyes. She almost ran to his side, and lifted his hand, kissing every knuckle, his palm then holding his hand against her cheek.

'Oh Lucien, what have you got yourself into, this time?' She sighed, 'don't go, not now, please.' She wept openly and stroked his face, ran her fingers through his hair.

The nurses brought tea and biscuits for her, went about checking Lucien's drips and tubes, his vital signs. They were quietly efficient, had been told Mrs Beazley was to be allowed to stay as long as she wanted and to make sure she ate and drank. The doctors largely ignored her, performed god knew what tests, shook their heads and left. When she asked any questions they patted her hands and said time was a great healer. But she knew it wasn't. After three days she had to do something, she didn't think the base doctors were doing enough, time to call in Alice.

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'Dr Lawson,' she yawned as she answered the phone, 'what can I do for you?' Please god not another corpse, she had only just finished a case and sent the results of the toxicology off.

'That still sounds odd.' Jean almost smiled through her tears and tiredness. 'Alice, I need you, we, need you. Lucien has come back from a mission he's... Oh god, Alice, I think I'm going to lose him, and this time...' She burst into tears and sobbed down the phone.

'Where are you?'

Jean told her.

'I'm on the first train.' Alice slammed the phone down and yelled for Matthew.

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Jean's head lay against his thigh, her hand held his, the drip dripped, the clock ticked. Alice stopped short at the sight, Lucien Blake should not die like this. If she had her way, he would not die at all, not now, anyway. She grabbed Matthew's hand,

'There'll be no arse kicking, today,' She whispered.

Not wishing to wake Jean she lifted the charts from the end of the bed,

'Heavy doses of pain relief,' she lifted the page, 'normal heart, respiration and temperature. Hm, well, he's so heavily sedated...' She turned to Matthew, 'I need to speak to his doctor.' She swept out.

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Alice bullied and shouted at the medical staff supposedly looking after Lieutenant-Colonel Lucien R Blake. She perused the x-rays and ordered new ones, she read every word of his notes, the details of the fractures, the internal bleeding, the gunshot wounds, the steps taken to prevent further damage, then worked out a regime that, she hoped, would bring him back to Jean.

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Matthew stood behind Jean and stroked her back. Alice needed Lucien's bed to be moved for the x-rays but neither wanted to wake the sleeping woman suddenly.

'Mmph,' she raised her head and pushed her tousled curls back. 'What?'

'We need to get more x-rays, Jean,' Alice smiled, 'I need to see what is happening now. Why don't you have a break, perhaps a wash, a shower...' The nurses had told the doctor she had not left his side for three days, except for necessary bodily functions. A nurse appeared behind Alice.

'Mrs Brady brought some of your things over,' she indicated a holdall in a corner, 'the room next door is empty, use that.'

'I...'

'...need to see to yourself.' Alice smiled kindly, 'you are no good to Lucien if you don't.'

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Alice was studying the x-rays when Jean returned, showered and refreshed. She had changed, brushed her hair and applied a little makeup, and although she looked tired, careworn, Alice knew that she felt a little better.

'What do you see?' Jean asked, 'and, thank you, for being here for doing whatever you are doing. Lucien trusted you and so do I. Please be honest with me, Alice, I have so much to say to him, I...'

'...and you will.' Alice indicated the x-ray of Lucien's skull, 'I want to lift the piece of bone that is pressing on his brain, here, that will help his consciousness, the internal bleeding has stopped, his blood pressure is good, his iron count is healthy and the other fractures are healing, though the smashed kneecap will never be completely right. There is a bullet in his liver, that I would like to try and remove, and one nestling rather close to his heart. The surgery is risky but unless I try...'

'...he will forever be in danger.' She took a deep breath, 'do it, Alice, please. And whatever the outcome, I will know we did the best we could for him. But, before you do, I need to speak to him, privately.'

'Of course.' Many other doctors would have reminded her that he was unlikely to hear her, but, given that Alice had watched him talk to the corpses in the morgue, she felt it was a reasonable request.

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'Lucien,' she sat on the edge of the bed and held his hand, 'I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm going to speak anyway. Perhaps I'll be less embarrassed this way. Lucien Radcliffe Blake, I love you, I have loved you from the first day, when you walked into our home, angry, dishevelled and drunk. We have seen off disturbed soldiers, yobbos who wanted to beat up my son, flighty young journalists, corrupt coppers, disgruntled fathers with shotguns, all sorts, but we have come through it all. When Mei Lin came to our house I was hurt and afraid. I knew what you were going to ask me but it all turned to ashes and, as much as leaving hurt, staying would have been much, much more painful. I suppose we could have fought, but really, that would have made both of us outcasts and angry at each other and the world. It would appear fate has thrown us together again, and this time, my dear doctor, I do not intend to let go. So, I am going to leave you in the capable hands of Alice, don't disappoint either of us, or Matthew is going to kick your arse.'

She stood up and leaned over to kiss his forehead. 'Be safe, my darling.'

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She was staring out of the window when the door opened.

'Jean?' Ruby whispered. 'It's only me. I wondered if there was anything I could do. They wouldn't let me in before.'

'Oh, Ruby, no there's nothing. I'm just waiting for him to come out of surgery.' Jean sat down, Ruby thought she looked tired, washed out.

'Waiting for who, Jean?' Ruby sat on the edge of the empty bed, which Jean thought was wrong, that was Lucien's bed.

'Lucien.'

'Lucien? As in Dr Blake?' Ruby's eyes widened, surely not.

'Yes.'

'He's the man you told Christopher had gone overseas?'

'Yes.'

'Blimey.'

'He could die, Ruby, and I couldn't stand that.' Jean allowed yet more tears to fall.

'Why did you leave Ballarat? Christopher thinks he forced himself on you.'

'God no!' Jean gasped, 'Lucien would never do that.' She sighed and her shoulders dropped, 'his wife came back. we thought, we had been told she was dead. But she wasn't and ...'

Ruby put her hand on hers, 'I don't need to know the details. I've always known you loved him, obviously still do. No man would ever match up to him, would they?'

'No, Ruby, they wouldn't.' Jean was grateful for her daughter in law's insight, her understanding.

'Well, Christopher gave his blessing,' Ruby smiled, 'so...' she stood up, 'good luck.'

Jean straightened the bed and watched Ruby go.

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Lucien was wheeled back into his room, a clean bandage round his head and a little more colour in his cheeks, Jean thought. She watched the nurses settle him, smoothed the bed-sheets and then left. Then Alice came in. She had removed her surgical scrubs and was dressed in a smart dress, her hair and makeup as Jean remembered it.

'The next twenty four hours are crucial,' she told Jean, with no preamble, 'I shall then start to reduce his sedation and see if he wakes up.'

'Thank you, Alice,' Jean sat and took Lucien's hand in hers.

'He's not out of the woods yet, Jean, not by a long way.' She sat next to her friend, 'his memory could be affected, he may not know you, he may not be the man you know and love.'

'He will be,' Jean was never more certain in her life, 'he'll be fine. He's Lucien Blake.'

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'Bloody hell!' He rasped, 'what the...'

'Lucien, oh Lucien!' She leapt up and looked into his eyes, 'you're awake. Oh, my darling boy!'

'Jean?' He blinked, 'any chance of a drink?'

'You can have some water, according to your doctor.' She smirked.

'Which one?' He took a sip of the water, 'mm...'

'That would be me, Dr Lawson.' Alice grinned. 'Glad to see you awake.'

'You?'

'Any problems with that?' Alice raised an eyebrow. 'Take it up with Jean, she called me in.'

'We have no chance, mate.' Matthew snuck up behind Alice, 'nice to see you.' Much as he hated what Lucien had done to Jean, he would support her with any decision she made. So being friendly to Lucien was a lot easier than yelling at him.

'Matthew, oh god, what the hell happened?'

'Let me see,' Alice opened her file, 'depressed fracture to the back of the skull, gunshot wounds to the liver and chest, multiple bruises, some internal bleeding, broken right radius and ulna, several cracked ribs, smashed kneecap... need I go on?'

'I'd rather you didn't.' He huffed. 'How did I get here? I am home, aren't I?'

'You are in Adelaide, Lucien, and you were brought in by Brigadier Brady. He arranged your transfer from Vietnam.' Jean couldn't take her eyes off his.

'You arranged the doctor?' He looked at her, she was so much more than he deserved.

'You didn't seem to be progressing so I called Alice.' Jean blushed, 'I had too much to say to lose you, oh Lucien, I asked you to come back safe, what am I going to do with you?'

'I have some ideas,' he teased and winced. 'But I think I'd better wait a while.'

'Behave yourself,' she chided, 'it will raise your blood pressure.'

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Yet again Jean would have to wait to tell him all she wanted to, but at least he was alive. She stayed by his side for the crucial hours then Alice insisted she go home, get some proper sleep and food and start to do the things she usually did.

'You can visit him whenever you want, but he will be fine without your constant attention.' Alice told her, firmly.

Margaret Brady had told the hotel where Jean worked that Mrs Beazley had a family crisis, but she would return to work soon. Ruby collected a typewriter and the days drafts each morning and worked from home. Amelia was fascinated to watch the letters appear on the paper as her mother typed, but she missed her grandmother.

'This chap must be very special,' Christopher observed one evening.

'He is.' Ruby agreed but said no more, and he didn't appear to want to know, to her relief, though she and Jean referred to him by his middle name, just in case.

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Jean did as Alice asked. She took a couple of days to herself before returning to work. The hotel manager hoped the crisis had been averted and that he'd missed her quiet efficiency. She agreed she was glad to get back to some kind of normality but she would still be visiting the hospital every evening. She went to her son's house each day for lunch, took Amelia out, spoiled her more than she used to but one thing Ruby noticed, the spark had come back. It was tinged with worry but it was there. She even caught her singing along to the radio one afternoon as she prepared the evening meal.

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Lucien made progress, admittedly slow progress, but his personal physician and surgeon was happy with that.

Alice caught him trying to read the paper one morning. He was squinting and didn't seem to be able to find the right distance so in the end he threw it down in frustration.

'Right, I'll have your eyes tested,' she smiled, 'what can you see?'

'I can see you, quite clearly when you are at the end of the bed, anything at the far end of the room, but things become blurred the closer they are. I suppose I must be long sighted.' He sighed.

She stood at the end of the bed, 'Tell me when you lose the outline,' she held up the chart from the end of the bed and advanced slowly. Two small steps forward and he stopped her, level with his calves.

'Not too bad,' she noted, 'probably only reading glasses, acceptable at your age,' she teased, 'and given the head injury, I was worried there would be more damage to your sight.' She looked serious, it was the first admission she had made about his condition.

'Jean's going to have a field day, isn't she?' He grinned. Being teased by Jean was something he was looking forward to, after they had had a very serious talk, which even he knew had to be done, before they could move on, either together or apart.

'Oh yes.' Alice smirked.

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Christopher dropped her off at the gates to the base.

'Sure you don't want me to come with you?' He asked as she reached for the basket on the back seat.

'No thank you.' She smiled. Until she and Lucien had had a proper talk, banished some or all of their demons, Christopher was the last person she wanted to know about her 'gentleman friend'. She was grateful he hadn't pried but was mindful that they were bound to have a row when he found out. She didn't like keeping secrets from him, but given what his feelings were towards the doctor, it was safest that way.

Under the plate of roast lamb, potatoes and vegetables were a pair of pyjamas, some things you never forget, and Lucien's clothes size was one thing she had never forgotten, though he was thinner than he had been. He'd complained about the hospital food so she said she would bring him a dinner occasionally, as long as he behaved himself. She also had some toiletries for him, and planned to trim his beard and hair.

He was sitting in a chair next to his bed, staring out of the window. He could see out over the gate and had seen her arrive, the advantages of long sight, he supposed. He wondered what was in her basket, fervently hoping it was something edible. He'd sent back most of the dinner, and sister had given him a good talking to, about nutrition and recovery,

'...something you should be well aware of, DOCTOR.'

'Indeed, sister,' he muttered, 'but that was...' how not to be rude. The old Lucien would have given chapter and verse on the benefits of good wholesome cooking, well presented and tasty, which that meal hadn't been, on any level, this Lucien was not ready for that.

'Hm..' she huffed and swept out. She would have a word with his doctor, the rather intimidating Alice Lawson.

'Hello, Lucien,' a sweet and musical voice broke his thoughts and he turned to see Jean, beautiful Jean, with her basket. 'It's good to see you out of bed.'

'It's good to be out of it.' He smiled, 'Hello Jean, how are you, today?'

'Quite well, thank you.' The formality was a game, now, though she wasn't quite ready to throw herself into his arms. Anyway, he would break, really break. 'And you?'

'Getting better, even if sister has told me I won't.'

'Not eating?'

'It was less that appetising.' He looked down, like a naughty boy. Some things don't change, she thought.

'Well, it's a good job I packed a snack, then.' She pulled the table in front of him and placed the plate and cutlery on it. Lifting the lid he grinned.

'If that's a snack...'

'Shut up and eat, before it goes cold,' she commanded.

He had just cleared his plate when Alice knocked and they called her in.

'Ah, I see,' she pursed her lips, 'sister said you won't eat.'

'Yes, well...'

'Still, it looks like that was a good dinner.' She sat on the edge of the bed. She wiped her finger over a trace of gravy. 'Ah, yes, Jean's roast lamb, brings back memories. Now...'

She told them she was going to have to go back to Ballarat, Matthew had preceded her but she had left strict instructions as to his care and therapy.

'Follow them and you'll be up and about sooner than you think. You're going to need a stick, that knee's a mess, you will have to take it easy, for some time; and I mean months, Lucien, not weeks;' she drew her brows together, 'you must eat, but I think Jean will help with that, rest...'

'Can I see the Brigadier?' He jumped in as she paused for breath.

'Lucien!' They both shouted, 'you can't...'

'I want to retire, on medical grounds.' He held up his hand, 'I'm never going to be fit enough to fight my way out of trouble again. I've thought about it, and I think I'd like a quieter life, perhaps somewhere needs a caring country doctor.'

Jean bit her lip to stop the tears and reached for his hand. She had so many things she wanted to say to him, a lot of them were angry things but more and more, as the days went by, she was just grateful he was here, alive.

'That sounds like something worth aiming for,' Alice said softly, hoping the caring country doctor would need a caring country wife, because there was just such a person sitting in that room.

'I'll speak to Margaret Brady,' Jean smiled, relieved he wasn't about to ask for another assignment, 'she'll see when he's available.'

'Margaret?' He raised his eyebrows, 'very familiar of you, Mrs Beazley.'

'We have become friends, I've done a number of dinner parties for them. It wasn't a one off, that dinner you attended.' Jean raised one eyebrow, 'Dr Blake.'

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While the Brigadier was sad to see Lucien request retirement, he understood why, and really the camp doctor would never pass him fit for duty again.

'You've done sterling work for us, Lucien, your expertise will be missed.' He stood next to the chair, 'perhaps we should ask Jean to prepare a special dinner, in your honour.'

'Sir,' Lucien pushed himself up and leaned on the stick Alice insisted he use, 'I don't want a send off, kind of you to think of it, though. I'd like to go quietly, no fanfare, no fuss.'

'Ri i ight,' Arthur Brady was a tad disappointed, 'as you wish, though perhaps you'll come to dinner one evening?'

'Perhaps.' They shook hands and the Brigadier took his leave.

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As Lucien made steady progress in his recovery Jean knew there would come a day when they had to discuss the past, to be able to go forward. She loved him but didn't know whether she could trust him not to hurt her again. She wrote down her thoughts time and time again, as if trying to learn a script for a play but each time the words seemed false, especially when she wrote how she had hated them both, her and him, for what they did to each other. She still didn't know what she would have done if he had come after her, left Mei Lin for her, got a divorce... At the time she was committed to the teachings of her church, but now, now she didn't think god would abandon her just for being in love with a married man. Except that he was no longer married. He was like her, widowed. Perhaps she should have fought, at least shouted about the injustice of it all, but, by the time they had agreed she should move out, leave, she was too tired to do anything about it. She was sorry they never said a proper good bye, but perhaps there was a reason for that, perhaps they knew, or god knew, they would meet again, away from the knowing looks, the gossiping ladies, the whispering behind hands. If she did what she wanted to do, life would be messy, interesting, she was sure, but messy, even if he was just the caring country doctor. And where would he set up his practice? Adelaide was well served for GPs, perhaps they should look to taking over from a retiring GP somewhere, build a new life. Heavens, she was thinking of life with him and he hadn't even suggested they marry, he may just want a housekeeper. He may want to say the good bye he didn't say two years ago. The very thought had her in tears, again!

It all came tumbling out one evening. She had brought him a meal, a slowly done stew, full of all the things he liked and a slice of chocolate cake she had made for Amelia's fourth birthday. That, she had snuck out the house, not wanting Christopher to know she was giving his daughter's birthday cake to a man he still showed his disdain for, whenever he was mentioned, which was rarely.

'Is she really four?' Lucien wiped his fingers on his handkerchief, 'how time flies.'

'Doesn't it.' She just murmured. He looked at her, a vague sadness seemed to descend over her face.

'Jean?' He reached over, 'is everything alright?'

'I don't know, Lucien,' there was a hard edge to her voice. 'Is it?'

He thought carefully before he answered,

'I suppose it isn't really, is it?' He sighed, 'I hurt you, I hurt you so much that the wound still hasn't healed, and then I come back and open it again. I'm so sorry Jean, nothing I say will ever take that hurt away, I wish it could, but how could it? I wanted so to do something, something good for you, but I expect sending you the ring was the worst thing I could do. I did think about running away with you, that day I called to tell you Christopher was worried about you, grabbing your hand and literally running down the street and out of Ballarat. God knows what we would have done, if you'd even come with me. A foolish fancy, some would have called it, it would have ruined both of us, but you especially, and I couldn't have that for you. I thought it was for the best, me leaving the country, but I don't know what was for the best, or what is for the best even now. What I want doesn't matter, really. All that matters is that you are well, happy and loved; because Jean, above all else you should be loved, you were born to be loved by someone good, and true, someone...'

'...like you, Lucien, like you.' She knelt before him and took his hands in hers. 'You know how long I mourned Christopher, I would have mourned you for as long if not longer, mourned the life and love we had for each other and the life and love we could have had.' He had taken everything she had wanted to say to him and said it to her. All she had left was the truth, 'I love you Lucien, I loved you then, I've loved you through these times when you have been lost to me, I love you still. You did hurt me, as you say, very much so, but I think I hurt you too, by not standing my ground, by letting you turn me out of my home, by not telling you then how much it hurt, how much I wanted you. I don't know if I would have gone with you, if you had taken my hand that day, probably not, because then I was a different woman. Then I was tied by convention and the church. Now, to hell with convention, and the church was no help then, I rarely attend, maybe high days and holidays, but not as religiously as I did.'

He smiled at the choice of word.

'Your life here, now?'

'I am content, which is not the same as happy.' She moved to the edge of the bed, 'I have my family, Amelia is a delight, I have my job, which pays the bills, the catering is a sideline and not something I want to be my profession, but it means I have some standing with the personnel on the base, or rather with the Brady's. I miss the noise of the noise of the surgery, the water dripping on the kitchen floor, the strange noises and smells coming from the study, the discussions over dinner. sitting in the study late at night with a whisky and a puzzle to solve. I miss our life in Ballarat. I miss us.'

'Oh, Jean, lovely Jean, what are we going to do?' He held out his hand to her, 'is it to be, you and I, this time?'

She stood up and went to the window. Gazing out towards the city, watching the sun go down and the street lights come on she too wondered. In this room she felt complete. Out there she was just one lonely grandmother going about her daily business, spending her evenings reading or knitting. One day was very much like another, and although she adored Amelia and got on well with Ruby, and Christopher had been very kind to her, there was still something missing.

'Jean?'

She turned, 'Lucien?'

'Jean, last time, I never got to court you. Not properly, perhaps if we start that way...' He opened his eyes wide with hope. 'I'm not much of a catch, a dodgy knee, prone to bouts of stupidity, bit long in the tooth...'

She giggled, 'Oh Lucien, I'm a grandmother, I make beds and clean hotel rooms, I knit and grow begonias...'

'...and you are still the most beautiful woman I have ever set eyes on.'

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And so it began. As soon as he was allowed to Lucien went out for walks with Jean, her chaperone was Amelia; well Jean and Amelia walked, Lucien was confined, to his chagrin, to a wheelchair. Dr Lawson had taken a weekend trip to assess his fitness to leave his hospital room and declared that the fresh air would do him good, but until he could walk down the hospital corridor to the front door, and back, without getting out of breath or being in enough pain to need medication, he was to use a wheelchair.

As the weeks wore on he tried walking in the park, they went out for lunch and picnics, and began to talk about where he would stay when he left the hospital for the last time.

'I should look for a flat,' he suggested, but Jean was worried about stairs.

'There are ground floor rooms at the hotel,' was her suggestion, fighting back the urge to tell him he could have her room at the cottage and she would use the small one that was currently not even furnished.

It was only when she found him trying to persuade sister he did not need or want sleeping pills that the decision was made. She had gone over later than usual after sitting with Amelia while her son and his wife had a rare night at the cinema.

'Why are you having sleeping tablets, Lucien?' She fussed round him and straightened the bedcovers.

'He has disturbances if he doesn't.' Sister huffed, 'he only gets a proper night's sleep if he is sedated.'

'Lucien, are you having nightmares?' Jean stood with her arms folded at the foot of the bed.

'Er, yes, I believe I am.' He looked down and mumbled, 'I'm sorry, Jean, I hoped that now they'd stop, but it would appear...'

'Oh, darling,' she sighed, 'you should have told me. It makes a difference, looking for a place for you to live.'

'I didn't want to worry you.'

'That's a feeble excuse, Dr Blake, and you know it,' she teased. 'Now, be a good boy and take the tablets tonight, I'll see that you have the right place to stay.'

'Yes, Jean.' He tried not to smirk, as she organised him, just like she always had.

They had been very open about their lives since he had left Ballarat for China. He had told her he had spent a considerable amount of time away from Mei Lin, on missions for the army. He was honest when he said he had not grieved for her as a husband should, she had succumbed to a particularly nasty flu bug. Her health had never been good after the camp, but it had been good enough to allow her to be relatively active and survive the parties she threw. She had told him how Christopher had helped her when she first moved to Adelaide, how she had found work that did not require too much skill but it was the Brady's that had helped the most, by being her friend and not asking too many questions. She also admitted that Ruby had told her he thought the doctor had forced himself on her.

'Did he really think that of me?' Lucien paled. 'Oh Jean, I would never...'

'I know you wouldn't.' She touched his hand, 'you are many things, Lucien dear, but not that.'

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'Mum,' Christopher helped her empty the little bedroom, 'you can't seriously think of having a man live here with you.'

'I can, and I will.' Jean lifted a box of books she had no room for and that she had no intention of reading. 'These can go to the op shop.'

'People will talk.'

'As if that's a change.' She huffed, 'he needs a place to stay and a flat is not appropriate.'

'What does the Brigadier say?'

'I expect if I asked him he'd be all for it, but I haven't asked him, because it's none of his business.' Jean snapped.

'Mum,' he pleaded.

'Christopher, I know what I'm doing,' well she thought she did, 'I am too old to care what other people think, I wish I had never cared, that way I would have had something more than I did.'

'A reputation.' He threw back.

'When I think of what some of the wives at the barracks were getting up to, an affair with Lucien Blake would have been tame.' She stood firm and glared at him. 'Now, the bed is due to be delivered in half an hour and I need to get the room vacuumed.'

'How can you afford it?' This was another thing that worried him, was this man, this injured soldier whose name and rank he did not know, paying for the furniture, and if so, did he expect something in return?

'None of your business, it's sorted.' She turned and left him holding the box of books. It was true, when she had told Lucien she had a spare room; after all she was used to having lodgers; but it needed a bed, he had insisted on paying for it, and anything else that was needed. She was to buy whatever was necessary, and not to worry about the cost. So she had found a bed, chest of drawers and chair that would fit.

When he returned from the op shop she had vacuumed and was hanging a mirror over where the chest would stand. The curtains were hung at the window which was open and two men were assembling a bed. He noticed it was a small double.

'Mum,' he offered his hand as she stepped down from the stool, 'do we get to meet this mystery man. Amelia calls him Luca.'

'She can't get her mouth round Lieutenant Colonel,' Jean laughed, but thought if he really wanted to know he would have asked. Unless he had spoken to the Brady's and they had told him. No, they hadn't because Christopher would have said something, told her not to see him again, warned her off, as he had tried to do when she ran back to Ballarat after Matthew's accident.

'Oh.'

'You can meet him when I think he's ready.' She smiled, 'I'll do a dinner, here, so if he gets tired he can come to his room and rest.'

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It was Lucien who suggested it was time for Christopher to know him. He had been at Jean's for over two weeks and hated hiding from him. Jean agreed, it was unfair to expect Ruby to continue to keep the secret as well.

'Can we invite the Brady's?' Jean asked, thinking she could just about get everybody round the table. 'It's really their fault.'

'I think that's a lovely idea.' He squeezed her hand across the breakfast table. Jean thought he looked so much like his old self, his nightmares had all but stopped and when he did have one, she would just pad across to his room, soothe him the way she had done in the past, and then go back to her own room.

'Fruit pie and custard, then.' Jean grinned and took the plates to the sink. He stood and pulled a chair to her side, sitting to dry the pots, just like old times, he said. 'Roast lamb?' He asked, hopefully.

'Only if you promise not to shoot it before I get it in the oven.' She reminded him of that day so long ago.

'Any chance of a bone saw to carve it with?' He passed back.

She threw back her head and laughed, something she found herself doing that so much more these days. He pulled her onto his lap, trying not to wince at the pain in his knee, which he always assured her was nothing, and kissed her, firmly on the lips. He liked that he could kiss her now. He remembered he had only kissed her cheek or her forehead before that fateful night. Now he found she tasted of her evening sherry, which, because he insisted on picking up most of the bills, she could afford, along with whisky for his nightcap. They had settled into more than companionship, but were still not lovers. She still went out to work in the morning, then they would have lunch and collect Amelia for a walk or a trip to a fair, or any other activity she cared to do. She adored Luca, he would tell her stories on rainy afternoons, sing to her; Jean wondered if they could fit a piano in the living room; and draw with her.

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The day of the dinner party they set off, with Amelia to pick up the lamb from the butchers, the last bits of vegetables and some wine, which Lucien chose.

'Jean, I'd like to pop into a little shop just round the corner, would you mind?'

'Of course not,' she smiled, usually this meant a bunch of flowers, but this time he took her into a jewellers. 'Lucien?'

'Jean,' he got down on his undamaged knee, 'I know we have only been courting a short time, or a long time, however you wish to look at it, this time I want to get it right, so;' he took a deep breath and her hands, 'Jean Beazley, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, please.'

Her first thought was that nobody interrupted him, nobody knocked at the door, there was just silence as he waited for her answer.

'I would be honoured to become your wife, Lucien, deeply honoured.' She whispered and he let out a breath he had not realised he was holding. She helped him up and laughed.

'Grandma?' Amelia had watched the scene play out and wondered why Luca had been on his knee to speak to her grandmother.

'Amelia, Luca has asked me to marry him,' She lifted the child up, 'I said yes. So I suppose he will be your grandfather.'

Although confused, her grandmother looked so happy Amelia realised this was a good thing, and when they let her have a little say in the choice of ring, she was even happier. They chose an emerald surrounded with tiny diamonds that sat perfectly on Jean's small hands.

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Christopher had been told to be civil, polite.

'Ruby, what do you think I'm going to say?'

'This is important to her, Chris, this man is the man for her, the one she has chosen and whatever way they decide to live their life together, we have to be happy for them. They've both been to hell and back,' she straightened his tie, 'now it's time for them to enjoy themselves.'

'I see the Brigadier has beaten us to it.' He nodded in the direction of Margaret Brady's little car. Jean had actually given the Brady's a slightly earlier time, confiding in Margaret she was a little worried about Christopher's reaction. She had also kept Amelia throughout the afternoon, changing her into a pretty dress for dinner after she had had a short nap with Lucien on the couch.

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Jean greeted them with a nervous smile. They could hear voices coming from the living room, Margaret was laughing, saying she couldn't believe he had done that, and Jean must have been furious. He had just recounted the tales of the pig's head in the fridge and smashing the pots to work out a case.

'Please don't encourage him, Margaret,' Jean called through as she took Ruby's coat.

'She wasn't pleased.' He was heard to admit, and Christopher thought he recognised the voice.

'Go on through,' Jean stepped aside, seeing the expression on her son's face.

Lucien was standing when they entered, leaning quite heavily on his stick, as he was wont to do when he was tired.

'Hello, Christopher, Ruby.' He held out his hand, 'so good to see you again.'

'Lucien, you're looking well.' Ruby smiled and shook his hand.

Christopher tried not to gape and drew himself up to attention. Remembering that Jean had said something about her friend being a Lieutenant Colonel he too shook the hand,

'Sir.'

'It's Lucien, Christopher, or doctor if you must be formal.' He smiled, his grip, Christopher noted was firm, strong.

Jean moved to stand by him and squeezed his arm, 'Why don't you see to the drinks, darling,' she murmured. 'I'll just finish in the kitchen.'

'I'll give you a hand,' Ruby turned, 'Amelia?'

Amelia gave her mother a hug then took her father's hand and led him to the couch.

'Daddy, sit here, please.'

Jean and Ruby escaped quickly before their grins broke into laughter.

'Thank goodness for small children,' Jean exhaled as she gripped the sink.

'Indeed,' Ruby started to laugh, 'best thing to diffuse a potential situation.'

'He's not going to be happy with you, Ruby, dear.' Jean turned, concern in her eyes.

'Pah!' She exclaimed, 'he only had to ask the right question. It was almost as if he was afraid of the answer. He told me you were quite sharp with him when he helped you clear the room.'

'Yes, I suppose I was,' Jean agreed, taking the roast out of the oven and placing on the platter. 'I wanted him to know I was not about to leap into bed with the first male that came to stay.'

'I see,' Ruby looked at her.

'And I haven't,' Jean huffed, 'This is not a fling, an affair, we will be married, he wants to go back into General Practise, but we don't know where, yet.'

'Would you go back to Ballarat?' Ruby put the dishes of potatoes and vegetables on the table.

'We don't know,' Jean wiped down the surface and leant on it, staring out onto her small back garden, 'we don't know if we'll be welcome. So, we are going to go and stay with the Lawson's in a couple of weeks. In some ways we'd like to, and in some ways we'd like to make a clean break.'

'I understand, I think.'

Jean put the lamb in front of Lucien's place and went to call the guests to the table. As she looked into the living room Christopher appeared to be having a serious conversation with her fiancé but there was no anger in either of their faces.

'Jean, this looks lovely,' the Brigadier rubbed his hands in glee.

'Thank you, Brigadier,' she smiled an indicated where everyone should sit.

'Jean, you call my wife by her Christian name, when are you going to call me Arthur?' He smiled.

'Oh, I don't know, maybe when you are a witness to our wedding,' she smiled broadly and sat down at the other end of the table to Lucien. There was a silence, then,

'Oh, Jean, that's wonderful news, congratulations, my dear.' Margaret leaned over and kissed her cheek, the others congratulated her, Christopher notably quieter, but at least he did say he was happy for them.

'Jean, where's the carving knife?'

Sorry, behind you.' She smirked as he turned round and picked up... a bone saw.

'Jean...' he laughed long and loud.

'Some memories, my darling, are worth keeping.'

The story of the bone saw and many others were recounted over the meal, Amelia sat contentedly on Jean's lap to eat and listened to tales she did not understand, but Grandma and Luca were happy, so she was.

As Ruby and Christopher washed up they sat in the living room and he had to ask her where on earth she got a bone saw from.

'I spoke to one of the doctors at the base. Told him the story and why I wanted it. It will have to go back.' She leant against him, 'it cost me a chocolate cake.'

'Fair price, my dear, fair price.' He kissed the top of her head and smiled.

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'You only had to ask, Chris.' Ruby scolded him, 'I would have told you. Jean knew how you felt about him, but surely you've seen the spark back in her eyes. And tonight, wasn't that the woman you used to know. You've often said she was quieter than she used to be, and she just had to find the right man. Well, he is the right man.'

'I suppose so,' he nodded slowly, 'it's just she didn't confirm or deny my suspicions.'

'If he had done what you thought she would have been angry, not sad and hurt.' Ruby stopped and turned to him, 'he's not that kind of man, Christopher, never was. He's loyal, that's why he went back to his wife when she showed up. He wanted to help Jean, financially, but she refused,' the continued to walk and Ruby told him all Jean had told her.

'So really, he never meant to hurt her,' she finished, 'he only ever wanted to do the right thing.'

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As they sat together in the park a few days later, Amelia playing on the swings, she remarked that Alice did not have two spare bedrooms, so perhaps they'd better book into the Soldier's Hill.

'Or we could just get married sooner.' As they hadn't set a date this would seem logical. 'A Trip to Ballarat could be the start of our honeymoon.'

'The start?' She looked up, 'what do you have in mind.'

'Europe, I think. London, see Mattie, if she wants us to.' He smiled down. 'You never did get to see more of the world, so why not.'

'Oh, Lucien.' She leant her head on his shoulder.

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'Ballarat doesn't change, does it?' He offered his arm to Jean as they headed to the club to see Cec, still there, even now.

'No,' she agreed, 'did you see the look Susan Tyneman gave me?'

'I wish Patrick were still around,' he stepped aside to allow her to precede him inside.

'Really?'

'Yes, I will miss him,' he smiled, 'he wasn't a bad old stick.'

'And he did choose you for his GP.'

'Quite.'

Cec Drury heard the door go and looked up, surprised to see Mrs Beazley enter. He came out from behind the bar,

'Mrs Beazley, what a pleasant surprise.' He shook her hand.

'It's not Beazley, anymore, Cec, it's Mrs Blake.' She positively beamed. He looked up as Lucien stepped out from the shadow of the doorway.

'Sir?' He blinked and wobbled and Jean caught him, 'Lucien?'

'Hello, Cec, how are you?' Lucien held out his hand and shook his old friend warmly.

With a brandy to settle Cec's nerves and whisky and sherry for the Blake's the tale was told, Lucien knew he would tell it many times over the days they stayed with the Lawson's.

'Perhaps it would be easier to have it published in the Courier,' he joked.

'I never believe what I read in that rag.' Matthew snorted over his evening whisky. 'Susan's let it go.'

'Now, Matthew,' Alice soothed, 'it's not that bad.'

'Huh!' He huffed.

They decided against a story in the paper and just let nature, or gossip, run its course so by the time they left for their trip to Europe everybody knew that Lucien Blake was back, and he had married Jean Beazley.

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They hadn't really meant to settle back in Ballarat, in fact they tried to find a practise that was a 'going concern' elsewhere, but when Alice picked them up from the station on their return the whole town was practically lining up to get on his list.

'Whatever else he was,' they said to each other as they passed in town, 'he was a bloody good doctor.'

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'I don't know,' he sighed, 'it's going back, and is that ever a good thing?'

'We don't have to live in the old house,' Jean snuggled up to him in bed, 'we could find somewhere closer to town.'

'I'll think about it.' He turned and smiled and decided he'd rather think about showing his wife how much he loved her first.

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You can decide if they went back to the old house, or found somewhere closer to the centre of town. For me, they just had to be together again.

Seven Dragons, thank you again for allowing me to write my take on what happened after Distant Shores. I'm sure it is nothing like you imagined. xx


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